auction auction

The auction at Sotheby's is on right now. My brother in Chelsea Quebec and I watched it on-line, live-streamed - thrilling. We watched as a few things didn't make their minimum and she said, "Pass!" and moved on. We watched as some works - a painting by someone called Scarpitta, for example - sold for way past their estimates. Right now, there is bidding on the famous Robert Indiana LOVE symbol; it just sold for $1,400,000. That's one million, four hundred thousand.

The portrait of my father, who had lots of love, did not sell. He didn't make the minimum. "Pass!" she shouted, and on she moved.

So my brother and I are not rich beyond our wildest dreams. Instead, we own a painting of our father, as before. Which is now in New York. We'll have to figure out what to do with it. Hang it in my living room sometimes, and his living room sometimes.

Yay!

Four hours later: So here's the good news: my brother and I still own a portrait of our father. The sun is shining really hard and all Toronto is out rejoicing. Last night the Wordies - our regular dinner group of women in publishing - came over here and we ate and gossiped and enjoyed ourselves. And then old friend Shari Ulrich arrived from Bowen Island to spend the night, so we ate and gossiped etc. too.

Carole is back from Florida and taught a class at the Y. And - when I opened my locker in the Y change room, guess what was there? My address book. What the hell was my address book doing in my locker at the Y? I have no idea how it got there, none. But there it was. My poor brain.

AND best of all, the proofs of the book just arrived. I printed them out and am now holding my actual book, all 239 pages of it. And tonight I'm reading at the Black Swan, and so are my students Maggie and Bernard. Life is just too exciting. If this morning Mike and I had suddenly become rich beyond our wildest dreams, I would probably have had a heart attack from too much excitement. So everything is for the best.